


Business/Casual

by treepyful (treeperson)



Series: Working on Love [1]
Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Coming Out, Coworkers to lovers, F/F, First Time, Get Together, Post-Canon, Queer awakening, Sharing a Bed, Snowed In, Texting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-18 04:47:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28737486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/treeperson/pseuds/treepyful
Summary: “I’m afraid we only have the one room left, Ms. Budd, and it’s a single queen.”
Relationships: Stevie Budd & David Rose, Stevie Budd/Ruth Clancy
Series: Working on Love [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2200572
Comments: 26
Kudos: 42
Collections: Schitt's Creek Season 7





	Business/Casual

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [SCSeason7](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/SCSeason7) collection. 



> **Prompt:**
> 
> 7x08 - RMG  
> Stevie and Ruth have been out on the road together for a while, getting things going at several of the new motels. There's definitely a connection between them, but Stevie is hesitant to pursue it for fear of messing up their business relationship. She's dealing with it fine though... until they get stuck at one of the motels on the night of its grand re-opening (snow storm? car trouble? cancelled flight?), and the last room that's available has only one bed.
> 
> ***
> 
> Dearest Prompter, thank you for such a wonderful idea! It immediately caught my attention when I read it, and I hope I’ve done it proud.
> 
> NB: I have no flippin’ idea how venture capitalist firms/investor groups work. Please suspend all of your disbelief. Similarly, my timeline here is an entity unto itself, resisting many attempts to wrangle it, and will likely require its own disbelief suspension for any coherency. That said, we’re used to that in this fandom... *eyes DJL*
> 
> Thank you to samwhambam and TINN for providing support when it was needed!
> 
> Regarding the rating: kissing and some foreplay are described, sex is not.

Honestly, the day was another complete success. The newest motel in the Rosebud chain was now open to the public and, to everyone’s joy, almost fully booked on their first night. Officially, that part was awesome – it was going to look great in the reports and Mr. Rose was going to pelt Stevie’s phone with happy texts full of poorly chosen but enthusiastic emojis. Unofficially, however, Stevie secretly suspected that her life was being ghost written for a sitcom B-plot and this exact scenario was designed to get maximum laughs from the audience.

“Sorry, could you repeat that?” she said, knowing it came out a little gritted and actively trying to dial back the antagonism.

The clerk, Kirti, gave Stevie a slightly wide-eyed look and Stevie felt a little guilty. This kid (and she was a kid – Stevie would eat her shirt if she were a day over twenty) had been an absolute champ all day, efficiently dealing with all the computer glitches and missing towels and sudden blizzards and other gremlins in the works that inevitably came with the first day of operation. She had impressed Stevie, who prided herself on being difficult to impress, and did not deserve Stevie’s annoyance. She definitely didn’t deserve Stevie’s annoyance when it was blown out of proportion by internal panic.

Kirti cleared her throat and repeated herself. “I’m afraid we only have the one room left, Ms. Budd, and it’s a single queen.”

Stevie eyed the window behind the desk, faintly hoping that a death glare might be able to blow all the snow away, or melt it instantly, or even just make it stop.

No such luck. The snow continued to fall, thick and heavy and totally uncaring of Stevie’s distress. Asshole.

Turning to Ruth, who had her compact open to check her lip colour, Stevie tried not to sigh too loudly. “You okay with sharing a room?”

Ruth smiled, bright and confident and _fucking stunning_. “Well, we can’t drive anywhere in this,” she said, waving a hand at the blizzard that was happening outside. “So yes, I’m okay with it. I’ve had worse accommodations than sharing with you, Stevie.” She raised a single eyebrow and Stevie, mortifyingly, felt herself blush.

“We’ll take it,” she said, quickly turning back to face Kirti and willing her face to stop doing things without her permission. Kirti was already holding out the key and dropped it into Stevie’s outstretched palm with a small smile that was, perhaps, a little knowing. Stevie narrowed her eyes and Kirti’s face cleared between one blink and the next.

Her “Enjoy your stay, ladies!” followed them outside into the snow.

***

In the time since the Rosebud Motel Group had landed their funding, Stevie had done a lot of travelling. At first, she stayed in Ontario, bopping around between rural communities in an increasingly large radius from Schitt’s Creek. Then she started venturing into Manitoba and then Québec, leaning hard on her slightly rusty French skills to organise the work needed on their new acquisitions. Next were a couple places in New Brunswick where her formal French simply did not cut it and she’d had to find a local translator. Eventually RMG crossed the border, and Stevie found herself setting up motels in Michigan and Pennsylvania and upstate New York, quickly racking up the kilometres on her mental odometer.

Most of the time, Stevie travelled alone. Whenever she told some new acquaintance about the endless hours she spent flying and driving to not-so-glamourous locales all by herself, they almost inevitably got sad and asked her incredulously how she managed to deal with the isolation. Stevie never really understood that question. She’d learned as a child that her own company was the safest to keep, and a couple of decades working as the sole staff member in a podunk motel solidified her preference. Music, novels, and drug store puzzle books made for far better company than almost any person she’d ever come across.

Which meant that the times when she wasn’t travelling alone were... trying.

One of the members from TJC Investment Group tagged along with Stevie on about half of her trips, checking out how things were going with one of their first ventures as a new firm. As a result, Stevie had gotten to know most of the members assigned to the RMG project decently well. Derek was tolerable, if dull. Adan really liked the sound of his own voice. Harriet was a functioning alcoholic, though she hid it well. Vic always tried to get Stevie to join in on road trip games but had yet to succeed.

But when it was Ruth sitting in the passenger seat, the spikes of her stilettos digging into the rubber matting and her smart pantsuit looking far too refined to be in a rented Kia, all of Stevie’s carefully designed and curated walls crumbled around her.

She didn’t know what it was about Ruth that so effectively and efficiently disarmed her defenses, but it was undeniably a Thing. The first time Stevie had spoken to her, that fateful day in New York, she had immediately stumbled over her own tongue and put her foot in her mouth. Stevie had just chalked it up to nerves – she was a country mouse in the big city, pretending to know what she was doing and desperate to impress. Considering Ruth had neatly put that embarrassing scene behind them and not looked back, Stevie was willing to do the same in order to save whatever of her dignity she could.

Since then, despite all of Stevie’s (perhaps half-hearted) attempts to keep her walls up and spikes intact, they’d managed to build a solid working relationship. Occasionally, it even looked vaguely like a friendship. Ruth seemed to understand Stevie’s introverted ways, never pressuring her into socialisation but always leaving the option open, while Stevie countered her thoughtfulness by making a point of accepting the offers for a late-night drink or a shared breakfast more often than she otherwise would have. They had very different thinking patterns but found that that worked in their favour, complementary instead of opposed, with one filling in the gaps that the other missed and making their joint site visits the most effective at catching small problems before they snowballed into Large Problems. Ruth laughed at Stevie’s jokes, even the ones that most other people would have missed, and Stevie loved listening to Ruth’s stories about crushing various men who thought that they were God’s gift to women and finance. It was good, what they had, and Stevie had cautiously started looking forward to the trips where Ruth was scheduled to come along.

Which is why at first Stevie completely wrote off the squirmy feeling in her belly that appeared whenever she was near Ruth (or talking to Ruth) (or thinking of Ruth). She told herself she was just intimidated by Ruth’s shrewd business acumen or envious of her bold confidence or appreciative of her smart fashion. Ruth was an impressive, successful, and gorgeous woman – it would be difficult not to be at least mildly dazzled by her. Her makeup was always perfect, too, simple and neat and devastatingly crisp in a flawlessly professional way that made Stevie jealous. Her hair was never anything less than immaculate, which was likely witchcraft, and it smelled so good when she walked past that Stevie kind of wanted to ask her what shampoo she used. Plus, her skin was probably really soft, and Stevie suspected that she spent a David-level amount of time and money on moisturising her hands, her face, her entire body, no doubt lingering in the nude after her morning shower to make sure the products absorbed properl—

Oh.

Oh no.

Oh _fuck_.

It was at the end of her seventh trip with Ruth, sitting in the airport lounge and waiting for her boarding time, that Stevie finally cracked and reached out to the person she thought was most suited to give advice.

God help her.

Dumbass  
  
**Stevie:** david i need help  
  
**Dumbass:** is this like a 911 situation  
  
**Dumbass:** stevie i'm not 911  
  
**Dumbass:** do you want me to call 911 for you?  
  
**Dumbass:** wait where are you rn?  
  
**Stevie:** no i need like existential help  
  
**Stevie:** i'm at an airport in ohio  
  
**Dumbass:** i’m the person you contact for existential help while sitting in an ohio airport?  
  
**Dumbass:** i mean airports are fascinating and i have many philosophical thoughts about them so like sure let’s do it  
  
**Dumbass:** but i’m surprised is all  
  
**Stevie:** omg stop  
  
**Stevie:** no  
  
**Stevie:** ok so  
  
**Stevie:** i need you to not be an ass for the next 10 minutes  
  
**Stevie:** because i think there’s a white wine i’m interested in sampling????  
  
**Stevie:** and i do not know what that means  
  
**Stevie:** help  
  
**Dumbass:** omg  
  
**Dumbass:** omg stevieeee look at you  
  
**Dumbass:** who is she  
  
**Dumbass:** who is this vixen who has turned you  
  
**Stevie:** [img_215]  
  
**Stevie:** she’s one of rosebud’s investors  
  
**Dumbass:** holy shit she's hot  
  
**Stevie:** yes i’m aware of that  
  
**Stevie:** that’s why i’m freaking out, david  
  
**Stevie:** i wasn’t lying to you when i said i only drink red wine  
  
**Stevie:** so i don’t know what’s happening but i’m pretty sure i want to chug that entire goddamn bottle  
  
**Dumbass:** ok well the first thing is to breathe  
  
**Dumbass:** the second thing is to understand that sexuality can be fluid and things can change and it’s also possible to be like 99% straight with 1 exception  
  
**Dumbass:** that’s definitely a thing  
  
**Dumbass:** especially this exception because damn  
  
**Dumbass:** that said there’s also the possibility that you’re a patrick  
  
**Dumbass:** do you think you’re a patrick?  
  
**Stevie:** has ruth made me realise i’m a lesbian who’s been unsuccessfully chasing after men? no  
  
**Stevie:** has she made me realise i’m a SOMETHING who very much wants to kiss her? yes  
  
**Stevie:** also given my ratio of red to white it’s gotta be more like 99.99% straight  
  
**Dumbass:** i was gonna call you a slut but who am i kidding i respect that, get it  
  
**Stevie:** david the 10 minutes aren’t up yet focus please  
  
**Dumbass:** ok sorry what do you want?  
  
**Stevie:** what do i want?  
  
**Dumbass:** from me  
  
**Dumbass:** or her i guess  
  
**Dumbass:** like do you need to be talked off a ledge? do you want coming out support? sexuality 101? sex tips? escape routes? idk you tell me  
  
**Stevie:** the first one i think  
  
**Stevie:** fuck  
  
**Stevie:** i just don't know what's happening  
  
**Dumbass:** are you remembering to breathe? you sound like you're freaking out  
  
**Stevie:** i'm def freaking out a little  
  
**Stevie:** how did i not know  
  
**Dumbass:** people have later life realisations all the time  
  
**Dumbass:** especially if you’re seemingly straight because that’s what the world expects and there’s no encouragement to explore  
  
**Dumbass:** there’s no right time or schedule for this shit, stevie  
  
**Dumbass:** and it can be messy to sort it all out but you’re the expert on you  
  
**Stevie:** well the expert is an idiot  
  
**Dumbass:** no the expert got blindsided by the unexpected  
  
**Dumbass:** very different  
  
**Stevie:** fuck  
  
**Dumbass:** yep  
  
**Dumbass:** how's the breathing?  
  
**Stevie:** happening  
  
**Stevie:** thanks  
  
**Dumbass:** np  
  
**Dumbass:** you heading home on that ohio plane?  
  
**Stevie:** yeah  
  
**Dumbass:** come over for dinner tomorrow and we can talk more  
  
**Dumbass:** or not  
  
**Dumbass:** we can also just get high and watch a movie and make patrick bake us cookies  
  
**Dumbass:** your choice  
  
**Stevie:** i'll let you know  
  
**Stevie:** my plane's boarding  
  
**Dumbass:** fly safe  
  


Stevie did end up going to David and Patrick’s place for dinner the night after she landed. They got high and watched a movie and made Patrick bake them cookies, but they also talked. A lot. Patrick flexed his status as a fellow late-bloomer in a weirdly reassuring way, and David gently asked surprisingly profound questions, and Stevie might have cried a little because she was overwhelmed and confused and high but also because she loved them both so much.

She made sure to extract promises that they not tell anyone about the crying, though, under pain of death. She still had a reputation to uphold.

***

It was almost five weeks before Stevie saw Ruth again.

They’d exchanged a handful of work emails over that time, which Stevie could handle, and a few casual texts, which she suddenly could not. The texts were just about the season finale of The Bachelor, a shared guilty pleasure they had discovered one night over dinner, but Ruth had included a winky face emoji in one of them and Stevie subsequently spent twenty minutes obsessing over what that could possibly mean. And what it would mean if she _responded_ with a winky face. She had ended up hiding her phone in her cutlery drawer, feeling vaguely disgusted with her teenager-adjacent behaviour, and responded the next morning with an excuse about accidentally letting her battery die.

When she did see Ruth again, the squirmy feeling was back in full force and worse than ever. It was like identifying it had given it strength, and Stevie was sure there was some sort of clever literary reference somewhere out there about names and the power they possess but she was a little too busy trying very hard to act halfway normal around the hottest woman in the world to think of any examples.

It got easier with time, though. Over the next few months, Stevie travelled with Ruth five more times and while the squirmy feeling (fine, the _crush_ , ugh) never disappeared or lessened, she learned to deal with it. She got used to living in the intersection of awe, panic, and slight arousal whenever they shared a cab, or talked numbers and projections over lunch, or that time Ruth ripped a creepy contractor a new asshole before Stevie even got a chance to get out her bitch face. She got better at catching herself staring at Ruth’s legs when she wore a skirt, or her collarbones when she wore a wide-necked shirt. She still struggled with lingering gazes on her hands, which were slim and beautifully smooth in a way that Stevie found fascinating, and on the line of her throat when she tilted her head back to laugh, but she was working on it.

There were a few times when Stevie, having managed to tear her eyes away from whatever aspect of Ruth’s figure had snagged her attention, thought she saw Ruth’s gaze snapping away in a similar way. When she thought she saw it happen three times in a single day, Stevie made a mental note to arrange some vacation time for herself since she was clearly overworked if she even for a moment thought that this _completely_ out of her league woman was giving her a second glance.

That promised vacation, which Stevie planned to turn into a glorious stay-cation involving a lot of sweatpants, weed, and possibly a whiskey or two with Jake, was scheduled to start a few days after she wrapped up the next motel launch. Which meant, of course, that it was precisely that launch where she ended up staring at the single key in Kirti’s hand with Ruth towering beside her in five-inch heels.

Sometimes, Stevie really hated her life.

***

The room Kirti had given them was on the small side. Stevie had been expecting this when she opened the door – they’d almost not bought the motel because of the size of the rooms, after all – and wasn’t surprised at how tightly organised the room was. However, faced with the prospect of sharing the room and, notably, the queen bed taking up most of the space, Stevie frantically thought that maybe they’d made the wrong choice in the purchase after all.

Too late now.

Desperate for some sense of comfort and aware of the late hour, Stevie dumped her bag on the tiny loveseat and said, “I’m just gonna get out of the monkey suit, if that’s okay with you?”

Ruth waved her hand carelessly, absorbed in something on her phone as she sank into the seat beside Stevie’s bag, so Stevie grabbed her pyjamas and ducked into the washroom and immediately pulled out her phone.

Dumbass  
  
**Stevie:** there’s a freak snowstorm and ruth and i can’t leave so we have to share a room  
  
**Stevie:** no not a room  
  
**Stevie:** A BED  
  
**Stevie:** THERE IS ONLY ONE BED LEFT IN THIS DAMN MOTEL DAVID  
  
**Dumbass:** are you comfortable enough yet in your newfound sexuality that i’m allowed to laugh at you?  
  
**Dumbass:** because omfg  
  
**Stevie:** laugh away  
  
**Stevie:** i'm sure god is  
  
**Dumbass:** (ROFL emoji )(ROFL emoji )(ROFL emoji )(ROFL emoji )  
  
**Dumbass:** you gonna shoot your shot?  
  
**Stevie:** ok for the last time she’s still my investor  
  
**Stevie:** relationships + work = bad news  
  
**Stevie:** even i know that  
  
**Dumbass:** ok for the last time i’m still not seeing the problem  
  
**Dumbass:** i literally married my business partner  
  
**Dumbass:** and we’re doing just fine in both the bedsheets and the spreadsheets thx  
  
**Stevie:** why are you my friend?  
  
**Stevie:** why do i know you?  
  
**Stevie:** i’m blocking your number  
  
**Dumbass:** have fun with ruth (tears of joy emoji )  
  


Dropping her phone to the counter in disgust, Stevie stared at herself in the mirror. “You can do this,” she murmured, very conscious of Ruth’s presence on the other side of the thin wall. “Be professional. Be friendly. Don’t fuck it up.” Shaking her head at her own terrible pep talk, she quickly washed up with the Rose Apothecary products lining the counter and changed into the loose plaid pants and v-neck tee that served as her pyjamas. 

Ruth looked up from her phone when Stevie opened the door, and her eyes seemed to halt at the neckline of Stevie’s shirt. Stevie glanced down, looking for whatever had caught Ruth’s eye. “Did I splash water on my shirt again?”

“Oh, no,” Ruth said, her gaze jerking up to meet Stevie’s. “It’s just that you always look so different once you’re out of your suit.”

“Well, yeah.” Stevie could feel her guard going up, defensive of her choice of clothing. They’re pyjamas, for fuck’s sake. “Suits are kinda designed to make you look good.”

Ruth held up a hand in placation. “It’s nice, Stevie. That’s all. I like when you’re you and not Ms. Budd from RMG.” Stevie didn’t have time to wonder what that meant before Ruth continued. “Do you care which side of the bed you have?”

She didn’t, so Ruth set her bag down on the side nearest the door. _Getting murdered first_ , Stevie heard David say in her head and she rolled her eyes at herself.

When Ruth came back out of the washroom wearing a raglan shirt and a pair of tiny pyjama shorts, Stevie couldn’t help but stare. Until that very moment, the most casually dressed she’d ever seen Ruth was when she would take off her suit jacket in a bar after a late dinner (and, memorably, once revealed a set of suspenders that later featured prominently in Stevie’s dreams). Seeing Ruth Clancy, senior partner and co-founder of TJC Investments, Kicker of Ass and Taker of Names, looking soft and rumpled and surprisingly vulnerable was a sight to behold. 

So Stevie beheld it.

At least, she did until she was interrupted by Ruth holding up a bottle of wine that she’d unearthed from her bag. “Nightcap?” she asked, wiggling it side to side with a knowing look.

“Where did you snag that from?” Stevie asked, unwrapping the paper coffee cups from their plastic and holding two out.

“A magician never reveals her secrets,” Ruth drawled as she cracked the screwcap and pouring a healthy amount into the cups. Seeing Stevie’s unimpressed expression, she gave her an indulgent smile. “Someone gave it to Kirti as a gift today, but she doesn’t drink so she passed it on to me.”

“Lucky you.”

Ruth tapped the rim of her cup to Stevie’s. “Lucky _us_. To another successful launch.”

“Hurrah,” Stevie deadpanned, and then hid her smile in her cup when Ruth laughed.

They fell into easy conversation, starting out on the topic of the launch but quickly moving away from work. It was relaxing to talk to Ruth, Stevie found, and she enjoyed it even considering the ever-present crush. Ruth was personable and interesting and a little bit mischievous, quick enough to keep up with Stevie’s wit and hardy enough to return some jabs of her own. It was a rare person who could improve upon Stevie’s ideal party of one, but Ruth did so in spades.

Their shoulders brushed occasionally as they talked, stealing Stevie’s words from her throat, but she disguised her moments of distracted silence with sips of wine (and they were sips – there was no way in hell that Stevie was letting herself get drunk with Ruth when _let’s make out with people_ was her go-to mindset when she got into her cups). Then Ruth stretched out of her curl to prop her feet on the coffee table, and Stevie couldn’t stop her eyes from drifting up and down the length of her bare legs. Her toenails were painted a shimmery pale pink colour; Stevie wanted to kiss them. Hell, she wanted to kiss her _legs_ , starting at the toes and moving up to— 

“Stevie?”

Oh shit, she’d missed a cue.

“I like your shorts,” Stevie blurted, grasping for a conversational lifesaver and landing on a stupid yet functional one. At least the shorts in question were interesting enough to act as decent cover, dotted with a rainbow of tiny dinosaurs that made them both adorable and unbelievably endearing – how could this woman rock a power suit _and_ dinosaur pyjamas? It was monumentally unfair.

“Oh! Thanks.” Ruth looked down at her lap and Stevie followed her gaze. “They’re my favourite pyjamas, actually.”

“They’re cute,” Stevie continued, because she didn’t know how to stop talking when she was ahead. She traced a finger around a little stegosaurus, then a t-rex. She was halfway around a triceratops when she realised two things simultaneously: Ruth had very suddenly gone very still, and there was only a thin layer of cotton between her finger and the skin of Ruth’s extreme upper thigh.

“Uh, sorry, sorry, shit,” Stevie stuttered out, snatching her hand away. “They’re just, uh, I mean, I think—” She blew out a harsh breath and tossed back the last of her wine. “I think I’m going to get ready for bed.”

However, seeing as she was already washed up and in her pyjamas, there wasn’t much left to actually do before climbing into bed. The bed she was sharing with Ruth. Who she’d just touched fairly inappropriately. _Fuck_. Her usual two minutes of teeth brushing didn’t provide her with a lot of recovery time, so she brushed them twice and flossed and applied another layer of moisturiser to her face before resigning herself to whatever awkwardness lay on the other side of the door.

And oh boy, it was awkward, the space thick with a low-grade tension that made Stevie uneasy. She was tempted to take some extra bedding out into the rental car and just sleep there in order to escape the stilted atmosphere that had invaded the little room, but it was snowing and windy and very cold outside, so that wasn’t an option unless she felt like actually risking death. Still, she honestly considered it for a hot second before deciding to stick it out in the warmth.

Ruth was already tucked into the bed, curled on her side and doing something on her phone that caused a little wrinkle to form between her brows. Wishing she could just turn invisible or teleport or possibly turn back time, Stevie plugged her own phone into the wall socket and slipped into bed to lie on her back and quietly pray for the end of the world.

An eon later, Ruth set her phone on the nightstand and flicked off her light before rolling onto her front with a quiet sigh. “Goodnight, Stevie.”

“G-goodnight,” Stevie managed, startled into speech and fumbling it. Ruth wiggled under the blankets for a moment, snuffled into the pillow in a way that stabbed Stevie in the heart, and went still.

Stevie had no idea how long she spent lying as still as possible, listening for an indication in Ruth’s breathing that she was asleep, but it was far too long. She knew she couldn’t blame her misstep on alcohol – she’d barely had anything, especially considering her tolerance, and neither had Ruth – so she spent her time coming up with explanations and excuses in preparation for the inevitable confrontation where Ruth accused her of sexual harassment and tossed her out on her ass.

Okay, she might have been catastrophising a little bit. She could recognise that, at least, even though recognition didn’t actually prevent her from continuing – gotta ride that spiral to the bottom. She was contemplating the logistics involved in leaving society and becoming a hermit in the woods (could she have internet access and still claim the title?) when Ruth quietly asked, “Are you awake?”

After spending a couple seconds debating the pros and cons of faking, Stevie responded with, “Yeah.”

The bed shifted as Ruth turned over to face her. “Me too.”

Stevie smiled, humour beating out her panic. “Yes, I got that.”

Ruth huffed out a laugh and Stevie’s insides went warm against her wishes. “Something on your mind?”

“Not really,” Stevie lied, rolling onto her side and immediately regretting the choice when she realised how close it brought her face to Ruth’s. “Just wired from the day, I think.”

“Anything I can do to help?”

It was such an innocent and earnest question that Stevie was ashamed of where her mind instantly went. She could feel the warmth collecting at the tops of her cheeks. “No.”

They’d forgotten to close the curtains before getting into bed and Stevie found herself entranced with how the hazy orange light of the streetlamp washed over Ruth’s face, her eyes warm as they locked onto Stevie’s. “Well, let me know if that changes,” Ruth whispered, barely louder than a breath.

Somehow, the air between them wasn’t awkward anymore. Maybe it never had been; maybe, Stevie thought, it was one-sided panic and Ruth hadn’t gotten the memo and had just spent the last hour in blissful ignorance to Stevie’s agitation. Regardless, now the air was electric, sparking with something bright and unignorable, and Stevie’s mind raced along to the beat of her heart. Ruth reached out to tuck a lock of Stevie’s hair behind her ear, the tips of her fingers skimming along Stevie’s cheekbone, and Stevie couldn’t help the little gasp that escaped her. Ruth’s gaze darted down to her mouth, then back up to search her eyes. Stevie had no idea what she was projecting – her brain felt like such a mess of desire and yearning and terror that nothing made sense – but whatever it was, it made a sweet little smile appear on Ruth’s face. Her hand was still behind Stevie’s ear, her fingers tangled in her hair, and she slid them along the curve of Stevie’s jaw to gently cup her chin as she leaned in to press her lips against Stevie’s.

It was brief, that first kiss, tender and soft and everything Stevie had ever hoped it could be. Then Ruth pulled away just far enough to make eye contact again, and for the first time Stevie saw something like uncertainty hiding in her face. The moment held, fragile and precious, and the sharp zinging of Stevie’s nerves was a stark contrast to the warm humidity of their breath in the small space between their faces. A thousand strings of thought tangled together, caught up in an incomprehensible tapestry of _shoulds_ and _coulds_ and _mights_ and _wants_ , and Stevie finally decided to fuck it all and be as brave as Ruth was. She closed the infinite distance of inches and recaptured Ruth’s wickedly soft lips with her own.

She felt Ruth’s intake of breath, and the split-second pause before she reacted, tilting her head to the side and opening her mouth slightly under Stevie’s. A thrill ran down Stevie’s spine at the first touch of Ruth’s tongue to the seam of her lips, and she immediately opened for it, eager and cautious in turn as they started passing kisses back and forth. They quickly moved from gentle exploration into something slick and hot and intense, their breaths coming more and more harshly as the walls fell between them. Stevie propped herself up on her elbow, tucking her hair over one shoulder as she leaned over Ruth and fought the urge to simply sink into her, physics be damned. 

Ruth arched up to trail kisses along the underside of Stevie’s jaw to the exposed length of her neck and Stevie whimpered as she caught the bottom edge of Ruth’s shirt and dragged it clumsily up her side, rubbing her thumb against the soft skin over her ribs. Feeling like her heart was going to beat out of her chest, Stevie tried to reign in her wildly spinning emotions as Ruth licked at her pulse point, but it proved a futile task once their lips rejoined and Ruth’s tongue swept into her mouth again.

However, Stevie’s brain was slowly catching up to her body and her elation dampened as reality crept in on the edges. She didn’t want to stop this incredible thing that was happening, afraid that stopping might mean never starting again, but she had questions that needed answering sooner rather than later and she was willing to risk Ruth’s amazing mouth for them.

“Okay,” Stevie said, turning her head to the side to break the kiss. She sat up, the blankets pooling at her hips, her shaking hands balling into the fabric. “Okay, what is happening here?” She felt Ruth freeze, and rushed to get the rest of her thoughts out, stumbling over them in her haste. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I like it, I like this, I’m very okay with this, but uh. I was not expecting it? And I feel like the responsible thing to do is to talk before we continue? Which I would definitely like to do. Continue, that is.” Stevie wasn’t sure when she’d become a real adult person who talked about real adult things, but it seemed to have happened and the words that just came out of her mouth proved it to some extent.

Ruth gave Stevie a considering look that was somewhat inhibited by the shiny plush of her well-kissed lips. Then she sat up to turn on her bedside lamp, flooding the room in warm yellow light. “Sure, we can do that. I’ve wanted to kiss you for a while, so I did.”

The thing about the people who lived and worked in Ruth’s world was that they didn’t really ever beat around the bush. It took some getting used to.

“O-okay.” Stevie waited, but nothing else came. “Is that it?”

“Should there be more?”

“Well, yes? I think so?” It had been a long time since Stevie had felt this flustered over relationship negotiations. “You do remember we work together, right?”

Ruth tilted her head to the side. “We do. Is that a problem for you?”

 _What._

“Um. Not—not exactly? Maybe? I just thought that there were like, ten rules of professionalism inscribed on a tablet somewhere in New York and the first one is _thou shalt not kiss thy coworkers_.”

Ruth smiled; Stevie really liked when she did that. “Not quite. It happens all the time. The first rule is actually _thou shalt not let kissing thy coworkers affect the job_ , which is much more manageable in my experience.”

“Oh.” 

“And are we even coworkers?”

Stevie shifted her weight uncomfortably. “Well, we work together. And you could pull RMG’s funding if I pissed you off.”

Frowns didn’t look nearly as nice on Ruth’s face as smiles did. “I’d like to think you have a better understanding of my personal ethics than that, Stevie.”

And yeah, when she put it like that, Stevie didn’t actually think Ruth would mess with RMG just because of a—a—a _liaison_ gone awry. She winced and shot Ruth an apologetic look.

“It’s just that it’s kinda a common thing? Coworkers date, they neglect their work, they break up, things are awkward and terrible.”

“Common where, on TV? Most media is written by people who haven’t mentally moved on from high school,” Ruth dismissed with a firm wave of her hand. “It’s ridiculous. Didn’t you used to sleep with your best friend? And now you’re back to just being best friends?”

That felt like a non-sequitur. Or possibly a trap. “Yes?”

“Right, so you already know what it’s like to successfully redraw the lines of a relationship. This wouldn’t be any different, whether it’s because we start something or, knock on wood, end something.”

Stevie chewed that over for a minute. “Is it really that simple? Because I’ve been crushing on you for ages and haven’t done a damn thing about it because we work together. I’ve been trying to be _professional_.” Apparently unnecessarily so. She was never telling David any of this.

“For ages?” Ruth asked. Stevie thought back over what she said and blushed. Ruth looked delighted.

“Pretty much since we met, yeah. Don’t tell me you didn’t notice, I’m pretty sure I wasn’t that subtle. I barely function half the time, honestly. You’re very distracting.”

Ruth traced the lines of tendons on the back of Stevie’s hand where it rested on the comforter. “Well, maybe I just put it down to wishful thinking.” Stevie turned her hand over and Ruth continued moving her fingers gently over her palm. “But to answer your question, yes, I think it’s that simple. It can be, at least. A dash of maturity is a magical thing; it’s not a silver bullet, but it helps.”

“Well, fuck,” Stevie swore, annoyed at herself and the universe and bad television for conspiring to make the last several months so needlessly complicated. “Fuck,” she said again, just for emphasis.

Ruth’s smile was breathtaking, warm and affectionate and amused, and Stevie’s poor confused brain was swamped by a sudden rush of emotions. There was some joy in there somewhere, some arousal, some hope, but it was mostly just a flood of indistinct positive things that made her feel light and airy, like the blankets over her lap were the only things keeping her anchored to the earth. 

Stevie let herself float in the messy soup of feelings for a moment, turning to fully face Ruth so their knees brushed against each other under the blankets. Ruth switched from tracing Stevie’s hand to interlacing their fingers together, and Stevie absently flexed against the grip as she focused on Ruth’s face with a new light of possibility.

Ruth’s eyes lit up as Stevie leant in, slow but steady, bolstered by Ruth’s clear confidence and sense of ease. She was tracing the curve of Ruth’s lower lip with her eyes and anticipating the way they would feel against her own again when the scent of Ruth’s shampoo, some mysterious mix of flowers that Stevie didn’t have the knowledge to identify, tickled her nose and simultaneously slammed her in the face with Ruth’s undeniable femininity. Floral shampoos didn’t make a woman, Stevie knew, but they did remind her that this particular person was a woman, and she found her lingering fear and doubt solidifying into a hesitancy that had her pulling back from her lean. She winced at the startled hurt that flickered over Ruth’s face and briefly considered pushing past her pause to bluff her way through what she hoped was coming next, but Ruth’s comment about maturity was ringing in her ears and Stevie was surprised to find that, despite all of her best intentions and extensive experience and disastrous past, she felt safe with Ruth.

“I think you should know that I don’t know what I’m doing,” she whispered, her eyes flicking back and forth between Ruth and the wall behind her.

Ruth blinked at her, then looked down at where her shirt was still slightly rucked up from where Stevie’s hand had been. “Well, you were doing pretty okay thus far,” she said with an amused note.

“No,” Stevie insisted in a mumble, tipping her head down to hide behind her hair, “like, with a woman.”

There was a moment of silence, Stevie’s heartbeat loud in her ears as she waited for Ruth to extinguish their flame before it ever got beyond a spark. Then Stevie felt Ruth’s fingers curl under her chin, soft but firm as they lifted her back up to meet Ruth’s gaze.

“Neither do I,” Ruth said, quietly and with a sincerity that Stevie was pretty sure she didn’t have to fake. After a beat, the meaning behind her words sunk into Stevie’s startled brain.

“Oh.” _Oh._ “Really?”

Ruth hummed, her fingers spreading out and trailing down the length of Stevie’s neck, brushing at her hair and skimming her collarbone. “Really. You terrify me, Stevie.” Her eyes flicked down to her hand, warm against Stevie’s exposed skin, but her voice was as steady as it ever was; she could have been ordering a coffee for all the inflection in that extremely revelatory sentence.

“Yeah, that’s me, terrifying,” Stevie replied drily, falling back on the comfort of sarcastic distance in her confusion and instantly regretting it when Ruth looked up sharply.

“Don’t I terrify you?” she asked, and Stevie thought back to all of the panicked texts and conversations she’d had with David and Patrick over the past few months, the countless late nights of bewilderment and insomnia, the complicated mess of feelings whenever she thought about Ruth. She nodded, small but definite, and Ruth looked satisfied. “Exactly. But I haven’t gotten where I am in life by letting fear run the show.”

Her fingers came to a rest along Stevie’s neck, four bands of heat and her thumb at the juncture of her jaw. Stevie swallowed, licked her lips, watched as Ruth’s eyes trained on her mouth. “I wouldn’t have thought you were afraid of anything.”

“I just have a very good poker face. It comes with the job.”

“Remind me to never play cards with you.”

Ruth laughed, quiet and sweet, and Stevie melted a little. “You’re amazing, Stevie. I’ve never felt like this for a woman before, but—” she faltered, and Stevie jumped in.

“Yeah, I know,” she whispered, resting her hand on Ruth’s knee, the fabric of the comforter cool against her palm. “Me, too.” Their eyes met and they shared a smile, small but full of promise. Yeah, this might be worth the fear.

There was a pause as they sat in their epiphany, revelling in the sudden opportunities available to them now that they were on the same page. Then, slowly, Stevie slid her hand up from Ruth’s knee, climbing her thigh over the barrier of the blanket. She watched Ruth’s face carefully, one eyebrow raised in question, and Ruth’s eyes dropped to her mouth, which was twisting into a smile despite her attempts to curtail it. Ruth matched her smile, her tongue peeking out to wet her lips, and gently tugged Stevie close by the hand still curled around the back of her neck.

This kiss – not truly their second but maybe the start of their second try – began far less innocently than their first did, with Stevie introducing her tongue on the first pass and her teeth on the third. Ruth gave as good as she got, tugging Stevie’s lower lip into her mouth and sucking on it through Stevie’s groan. Stevie’s hands found the bottom hem of Ruth’s shirt again, sliding over her hips and those damn dinosaur shorts to graze her waist, her ribs, the underside of her breasts. She caught Ruth’s gasps in her mouth and steadied herself against the rushing in her gut, holding onto the rollercoaster of want with the tips of her fingers.

Ruth laid back down on the bed, drawing Stevie in to lean over her, and Stevie went willingly, pressing the length of her body against Ruth’s and sliding a hand along her smooth leg where it was hitched against her hip. Ruth’s hand moved from Stevie’s neck to bury itself in her hair, pulling it into a fist that made Stevie whine and pant at the pressure on her scalp.

Stevie’s hands shook where they skimmed over Ruth’s body, her nerves coming through despite her resolve. Once she got into the rhythm of it, though, Stevie forgot to be scared because she did know what she was doing – this was sex, and Stevie knew sex, knew how to celebrate bodies. She was good at it, practised and confident, and she fell into that familiarity with a sense of gratitude as her hands roamed over Ruth’s smooth, warm skin. Even if the parts and pieces were a little different than she was used to, Stevie knew how to wring pleasure out of touch, how to check in with her partner, when to stay where she was and when to move on to focus on some other pleasure. Ruth’s panting and moans were a little higher pitched than Stevie was used to, but the tone and cadence were familiar, and her hands were smaller than any that had previously touched Stevie, but they held her waist, her hips, her breasts in the same electrifying ways. The newness of it all was thrilling and, yes, even terrifying, but Stevie managed to not shake out of her skin by focussing on the comforting pattern of shared breaths, frantic kisses, slick skin, and shuddered groans.

When their writhing slowed to a halt and their shouts were reduced to echoes bouncing off the walls of the little motel room, Stevie found herself lying flat on her back, staring up at the ceiling through dazed eyes. Ruth was draped along her side, her thigh hiked high against Stevie’s hip and her hand still resting between Stevie’s splayed legs. Stevie waited for it to get awkward, for the fading haze of lust to reveal that they had made a terrible mistake, for Ruth to clear her throat and peel away and cover herself delicately with the sheet.

But none of that happened. Instead, their heaving chests slowed and their overheated skin cooled and the silence was calming instead of stilted or embarrassed. Stevie pressed a sloppy kiss to Ruth’s hair and Ruth hummed in response, turning her head to blink slowly up at Stevie. “You okay?” she asked, voice rough and pleasantly worn.

Stevie let herself smile. “Yeah. Very okay. You?”

Ruth hummed again and stretched her body against Stevie’s. “Very.”

“Good.”

Ruth shivered, so Stevie covered them with the blankets and settled in. She was messy, her hand was sticky and cramping in new and interesting ways, and she felt like she was supposed to want to take a shower, but Ruth nuzzled her nose against her cheek so Stevie turned her face to trade lazy kisses and all thought of leaving the bed died a swift death. Surrounded by the scent of sex, sweat, and Ruth’s shampoo, Stevie drifted off to the thought that maybe this wasn’t the worst idea she’d ever had.

***

Stevie woke up the next morning to a mouthful of hair. This wasn’t particularly unusual – her hair at night was an adventure unto itself – but this hair was the wrong texture, the wrong taste. The wrong scent. Blinking her eyes open, Stevie peered at the offending hair and the head it was attached to. Specifically, Ruth’s head.

Right.

That was a thing that had happened.

Running her gaze along the exposed breadth of Ruth’s shoulders, the length of the arm she had flung over her head, Stevie took a quiet moment to poke at her brain in search of any impending freak outs, whether of the no-homo brand, the oh-shit-my-coworker genre, or something more inventive. She found a couple sore spots that would need tending in the near future, including a notable one that flared up as she circled the concept of applying a label to herself, but there was nothing immediate or urgent and Stevie let an indulgent little sense of pride sweep her chest.

Stevie’s mind wandered aimlessly – cataloguing the aches and sticky spots on her body, how the snow-reflected sun shone on Ruth’s skin, and whether they were going to be able to catch their flight – until Ruth shifted and sighed herself into consciousness. She tilted her head at the window, squinting in obvious displeasure, then dropped her eyes to Stevie and smiled a slow, dopey smile that slowly took over her face. Stevie couldn’t help but mirror it.

“Hi,” Ruth whispered, rolling onto her side and kissing the ball of Stevie’s shoulder.

“Hi,” Stevie whispered back, sliding her hand under Ruth’s waist and smoothing it up her back. “How are things looking in the bright light of morning?”

“Pretty damn good.” Ruth started mouthing along Stevie’s shoulder to her collarbone, leaving a meandering trail of wet behind. “What about from your angle?”

Stevie tilted her head back to give Ruth space, her hand trailing down to stroke over the top of her ass. “No complaints here.” Ruth laughed, and Stevie snorted and tapped the tips of her fingers against her in a gentle smack.

“Good. I’m glad.” Ruth made her way up to Stevie’s mouth, pressing quietly demanding kisses to her swollen lips, and Stevie responded as enthusiastically as the relaxed morning-after atmosphere allowed her to. Morning breath be damned, she licked into Ruth’s mouth, lazily arching up into her as her hands switched from sweeping caresses to firm grips. They slowly toppled over, Ruth’s back hitting the mattress again with a muffled sound, and Stevie leaned up on her elbow to loom over Ruth, her curtain of hair effectively shutting out the world as they kissed.

Ruth reached up to frame one hand against the side of Stevie’s face, stilling her and holding eye contact until Stevie started fidgeting. She raised an eyebrow in question and Ruth quirked her lips, running her thumb over Stevie’s cheekbone.

“You know, before last night happened, I was planning on pulling myself from the RMG visitation schedule once I got back to New York.”

Stevie dropped her gaze from Ruth’s, shying away from uncomfortable thoughts. The blankets had shifted downwards with their rolling to expose Ruth’s breasts, and Stevie found herself unable to look away from them. “Why?”

“Because I was starting to get unprofessional about you, and that was something I really wanted to avoid.”

“And now?” Stevie brushed her thumb over Ruth’s nipple, watching with interest as it pebbled up and definitely not avoiding the possibility of meeting Ruth’s gaze.

“Well,” Ruth hedged, humour evident in her voice, “now I was thinking we might be able to be unprofessional together. After hours, of course.”

“Of course.” Stevie hummed and hid her smile by licking the flat of her tongue over Ruth’s peaked nipple. “I’ve considered your proposal,” she said, speaking over Ruth’s gasp. “And I’ll accept it, pending one revision.”

“Oh?” Ruth’s voice had gone all breathy, her eyes dark as she watched Stevie gently suck on her breast. “And what would that be?”

“I much prefer your company to, say, Adan’s.”

“Glad to hear it, considering,” Ruth said, shifting her hips restlessly, one knee coming up to tent the blankets.

God, she was so perfectly snarky, even while nude and turned on and squirming under Stevie’s tongue. Stevie tilted her head down to rest her forehead against Ruth, slightly overwhelmed with just how much she liked this woman.

“Stevie?”

“So,” Stevie continued as though she hadn’t paused, “my amendment involves less of him and, uh, everyone else, but more of you.” She shifted her weight to reach Ruth’s other nipple and pressed a sloppy kiss to it.

Ruth went with the flow. “Mm, I think I can manage that. Oh, shit, Stevie,” she gasped, flinching under Stevie’s teeth. Stevie’s eyes flew to hers, concerned, only to find them wide and glassy. “Shit, do that again.” So Stevie did, catching her nipple between her teeth and gently biting down. The moan that followed lit sparks down Stevie’s spine, firing every nerve ending she owned, and she put a pin in the rest of the conversation as she slid her hand down Ruth’s stomach.

Thirty minutes later, having practiced some of her new skills and been the willing subject of Ruth’s own studies, Stevie was catching her breath as she lay on her side. Ruth was her mirror image, her lips glossy and swollen and – Stevie checked with an almost absent kiss – tasting of Stevie.

She stifled a yawn. Post-coital lethargy was pulling on her edges again, tempting her back into sleep regardless of the hour, and she wasn’t sure how successful she was going to be in fighting it off. Ruth was looking droopy as well and Stevie floundered around for some motivation to get out of bed and into the shower (which, at this point, she desperately needed).

Abandoned on her nightstand, Stevie’s phone let out the obnoxious gong sound that was the notification for her work emails. Almost simultaneously, Ruth’s phone pinged quietly. Opening her eyes, Stevie exchanged a rueful look with Ruth. That was about as clear a signal to get back into gear as any, unfortunately. They needed to get up, make themselves presentable, and walk back out into a world where they had to maintain a working relationship, and where they lived seven hundred kilometres apart. In separate countries. That was... a lot, and Stevie didn’t know what to do about it.

However, if Emir had taught her anything – and he had, the bastard – it was to check that everyone was on the same page before taking any plunges into the deep end, badly mixed metaphors aside. Earnest conversations were not exactly Stevie’s forte and she could feel herself clamming up at the thought, but since the theme of the last twelve hours had been bravery, she decided to continue the trend.

Stevie cleared her throat. “Where do we go from here?”

Ruth hadn’t been moving much, but she stilled all the same. “The airport?” she said lightly, then scrunched her nose in apology when Stevie gave her an unimpressed look. “I think that depends on a few things. Where do you want to go?”

Stevie brushed a few strands of hair out of Ruth’s face, finding it difficult to keep eye contact as she braced herself against the vulnerability of her next words. “I really like you, Ruth. I think I’d like to see if we can make this work. And not just for sex,” she tacked onto the end, determined to make her intent clear.

Ruth’s smile was a soft one, and Stevie let a little thread of hope wrap around her heart. “I concur,” she said quietly. “I would also like to see if we can make this work, and not just for sex. Not that the sex was bad, of course.” She licked her bottom lip and Stevie’s cheeks went warm.

“And to think we’re both beginners at this. It’ll only get better.”

“I might _actually_ die if that happens.”

“La petite mort, Ruth. It’s in the name.”

Ruth giggled, the sound laced through with joy, and Stevie’s stomach fluttered with something she refused to call butterflies even in the privacy of her own head.

“The long-distance thing isn’t going to be fun,” Ruth admitted when she came down from her giggles. Stevie nodded, her hair pulling against the pillow.

“No, it isn’t, but I think we’ll manage. Lots of video calls.” Stevie winked, and Ruth twisted her lips into a wry grin.

“I guess that’ll have to do. Between RMG trips, obviously.”

A sudden realisation hit Stevie and she bit down on a smile. “Did I tell you that I’m on vacation next week?”

“You did not, no.” Ruth sounded uninterested, but Stevie had learned a couple very useful things about Ruth’s bluffing abilities last night and figured she had her hooked.

“Mm-hmm. Back in Schitt’s Creek. Not much to do, but that’s kinda the point. Just gonna laze around, stay in bed. Probably won’t even get dressed, honestly.”

Stevie heard Ruth swallow. “Sounds relaxing.”

“Yeah, I think it will be.” She gathered her courage for a beat, then two. “Would you want to join me?”

Ruth’s eyes snapped to Stevie’s. “For your week off?”

“Yeah. My place is a dump and nowhere near what you’re used to, I’m sure, but it’s got a door that locks and a bed.” Stevie shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “And I think it would be nice to interact outside of work for a while. See if this whole thing,” she twirled a finger between them, “still works when we don’t have a motel to open, y’know? Because I don’t know how to make it work, but I want to try.”

“Stevie.” She looked up to see Ruth’s open expression, hope written clear on her face. “I would love to join you.”

Stevie didn’t know how to articulate her gratitude without sounding like an idiot, so she just expressed it all through a kiss.

***

Dumbass  
  
**Stevie:** so i had fun with ruth  
  
**Dumbass:**!!!!!!!!!!!!  
  
**Dumbass:** STEVIE  
  
**Dumbass:** I'M PROUD OF YOU  
  
**Dumbass:** which is kinda weird and maybe a little inappropriate but like  
  
**Dumbass:** (rainbow emoji )(rainbow emoji )(rainbow emoji )(rainbow emoji )(rainbow emoji )(rainbow emoji )(rainbow emoji )  
  
**Dumbass:** when do i meet her?  
  
**Stevie:** literally never  
  
**Dumbass:** spoilsport  
  


Ruth  
  
**Ruth:** See you in a few days!  (winking face emoji )  
  
**Stevie:** (winking kiss emoji )  
  


  



End file.
